


truth at the bottom of a bottle

by bythunder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 08:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder
Summary: “It hardly seems fair…” A hand moves from her shoulder to stroke her hair. “I love you so much…”“What isn’t fair about that?” She asks, her stomach in knots.“You don’t love me the same. You don’t love me at all."





	truth at the bottom of a bottle

"You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

The question is purely rhetorical at this point, what with his bleary eyes and the stumble in his step. Her husband has always been one for indulgences, he’s no stranger to the drink, but this is different. This is  _ bad. _ She hasn’t seen him like this since… 

“What has happened?”

“Why must something’ve happened for me to enjoy a drink?”

“A glass or two, but this- Robert- you must’ve had  _ bottles _ .”

He holds up three fingers proudly, waggling them in her face before collapsing into the chair by the fire, his legs giving out, unable to support his own weight any longer.

Useless drunkard.

Ah, well. It won’t harm him any to sleep in that chair, he’s done it a hundred times before. Though, she’s still concerned, unsure what it is that’s got him so upset. His moods are usually so predictable. What could it be? She counts off the days in her head, no, the anniversary of his parents’ death, it’s still moons away. What else? Did Ned say something over dinner? Hard to imagine, he and Ned never cross one another. She hasn’t a clue what it could be.

“Lya…”

“Yes, Robert?”

“My Lya…” He hums in satisifaction. “Beautiful, beautiful Lya.” 

She smiles. Not for her own vanity, she knows she’s hardly as pretty as Robert believes, but, well, she cannot help but feel touched when he gets like this, soft and sentimental. It could easily come across as cheap flattery, early in their marriage, it made her uncomfortable, this attention from him. She’d rather deal with his advances, at least those, they made sense, they were honest, his motivations clear. But soon enough she came to understand, this was just as genuine as his lusts.

“D’you know… how long I’ve loved you? My  _ Lya _ . Mm… b’fore I ever even saw you. Ned, he talked ‘bout you, how lovely his sister was, how fierce and brave. Wanted you from then, I did. And then— At Harrenhal? My gods, there’s never been a girl as beautiful as you. No one else— no one else could ever matter the way you do, Lya.”

Immediately her worries settle. So it is one of those nights. When the drink has gotten him warm and affectionate. Good. The thought that it might've been some dark mood sending him to the wine cellar is quickly replaced. He must've been remembering with Ned, after she had retired for the night. She laughs thinking that her goodsister might be dealing with Ned in the same state. 

But then— without warning, the air shifts, turns sour. Robert lifts himself from his seat and crosses the room until hes behind her, looming, huge, and she feels a chill run down her when he places his hands on her shoulders. This is not the tender,  _ inviting _ touch she was expecting after those affections he was spouting. It was much too hard a touch, he gripped her too tight. 

“Robert—”

“It hardly seems fair…” A hand moves from her shoulder to stroke her hair. “I love you so much…”

“What isn’t fair about that?” She asks, her stomach in knots.

“You don’t love me the same. You don’t love me at all.”

Her jaw drops, she’s speechless. How could he think such a thing? Certainly, she hadn’t loved him as long, he knows that, but that does not change the fact that her love has grown since they’ve been wed, continues to grow more each day, more than she knew she could. Lyanna thought he knew that, he had to know.

Robert heaves a sigh and releases his hold of her, but she won’t let him go, not until she’s cured him of this ridiculous notion. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s the truth. Isn’t it, Lyanna? And don’t lie to me, I’ll know if you lie.”

“Who has put this thought in your head? Surely it wasn’t something Ned said, he wouldn’t—”

“No, t’wasn’t Ned. I don’t need Ned to tell me what’s in front of my own eyes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I thought I was clear? Wasn’t I?” He hums, eyes closed as he tries to sober himself up, a trick that never works, no matter how he thinks it does. “You don’t love me. My own wife. My own life.”

“Three children in as many years, and you think I don’t love you?”

“Love’s nothin’ t’do with  _ fucking _ .”

A sudden red bloom bursts across his already ruddy cheek, a stinging in her palm. She’s slapped him, so quick that she hardly even realized she’d done it.

"How  _ dare  _ you—"

"Dare I? My lady, am I wrong?"

"Of course you are, you oaf!" She throws her hands up in frustration. She ought to know better than engaging with him when he's like this. He's impossible. She turns away, leave him to his bitter feelings, he'll suffer for them enough come morning. But as she turns, he snags her wrist and pulls her back to him.

"You've given no proof, wife."

"Proof of what?"

"That you love me."

"Three beautiful, and rather large, babes. Why would I suffer so if not for love of you?"

"Because… 'tis your duty to me, t' our people. Sons and heirs."

A laugh bursts forth, rather unintentionally. “I’ve never cared a whit for  _ duty _ . You know that.”

Robert scowls. “Still doesn’t mean love. I've fucked without love, my Mya—”

“Do not.” Her icy tone silences him immediately. The topic they do not broach, never, no matter how deep in their cups. She won’t,  _ can’t  _ hear talk of his bastard, even now, faithful as he has been to her. The sting of it, it still hurts her, almost worse now that she’s given him trueborn children. The only crack in their otherwise perfect life. Or the life she  _ thought _ was perfect… "What have I ever done to make you think that I don't care for you?"

"I asked you first," he says, in complete earnesty, despite how childish the statement. "What have you ever done to prove it?"

She gives him a feral smile then, one that, had he been sober, would've sent him shivering, and draws him closer, nails digging into his neck. "Husband… believe me when I tell you this; if I did not love you, I would not be here now. I would not share your bed, I would not share your roof. If not for my love of you, Robert, I would be gone, vanished in the night, and you'd  _ never _ find me. But here I am. Here I stay. There is your proof."

“There’s nowhere you could go I would not follow, Lyanna. Dorne, beyond the Wall, Asshai-by-the-bloody-Shadow… Anywhere. I’d find you.”

“You’d be searching a very long time, and it’d be a dangerous journey.”

“You’ve thought of it then,” he accuses, a sneer marring his face. “You’ve a plan made, how you would leave me. And in the same breath, you claim love. Heartless wench. Would you abandon the children as well? Leave them motherless?”

She shakes her head. “You aren’t hearing me, you aren’t understanding. I would not leave them any more than I would leave you. Robert,  _ this _ is my home now, and you are my family, our babes are my  _ life. _ I could not give any of that up, not for anything.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” It’s hardly more than a whisper, defeated, the fight leaving him. “Lyanna… I love you with everything that I am. And I always have, always… D’you know other lords came to my father, offered to match their daughters t’ me? ‘Course you do, you must. But even as a lad, I said, ‘No, Father. I want Lyanna Stark.’ And he would ask, ‘Son, what if Lord Stark does not agree to the match? He might have other plans for the girl.’” Robert shakes his head, a smile about his lips, but it’s a sad smile, and it hurts to see. “‘Then look to Stannis, for there’s no one else for me but her.’ I gave myself to you entirely and completely, and I’ve done so every single day since then, and I’ll do so until I die. It’s only ever been you, it will only ever be you. You, though, my most beloved wife… Even now, you do not give yourself to me so easily, so freely. I do not have your heart, not as you have mine.” 

“So you think that— that because I did not fall instantly in love with you… that somehow means I don’t love you at all?” 

“If it was going to happen, it would have by now. And yet you—"

"Do you even know how unfair you are being to me? Do you not understand that- that the circumstances are entirely different for me than they were for you. I do not get to be so  _ reckless _ with my heart, I cannot give it away as easily as you did. Not without dire consequences."

"What's so dire about me?"

“Nothing at all, Robert.” Lyanna closes her eyes, swallows her frustrations, because it would not help to fight now, to argue. He’s volatile when drunk, and she must soothe him, not inflame him, despite the latter being so much easier. “I am a lady of a great house. From the day I was born, my fate was not my own. I was subject to the whims of my father, and once wed, to those of my husband. I did not get to choose who I would marry. I did not pick you, Robert.”

He tries to speak, but Lyanna can’t stop her words, she presses on.

“I did not know you when our fathers arranged our betrothal. Ned told me some things, true, but you were still a stranger to me. I did not know what kind of man you were, what kind of husband you would be. Would you be kind or cruel? Would you beat me? Would you—” She sighs and shakes her head. “But it did not matter what kind of man you were, because in the end, I was my father’s to give to whom he chose. And he chose you.”

“And you did not,” he says, wounded.

“I did not pick you for my husband. There was a time when I thought— But no matter. I didn’t have a choice in my husband, but what I do have control over, what is within my rights, is whether or not I would love you. The ability to fall so easily as you did, that is not a luxury I ever had. I had to protect myself. If you were unkind, and I gave you my heart, it would only hurt that much more.”

“I’ve never-  _ never _ treated you any less than you deserve, Lya—”

“I know that, Robert. And that’s why I have chosen to love you. Because I  _ do _ love you. I know that you are a good man, a good husband and father, I know my heart is safe in your hands. And, so yes, yes, I did not love you immediately, but don’t you  _ dare _ , for even a moment, think that it means I love you less, Robert Baratheon. I love you more than you could possibly understand.”

When he pouts, he looks altogether too much like their toddler. It's difficult not to laugh, even through the heavy cloud of her words. "Wouldn't hurt t'say it every now an' again."

"What?"

"You don't say it, hardly ever. You love me. Cat told Ned nearly ten times o'er dinner."

"Do you really need me to say it?"

"I think I do. I tell you often enough."

"Well, you're  _ you _ . I'm not so open, I'm a Stark—"

"You're a Baratheon, dammit! You won't even wear my name. Gods…"

"I've been a Stark longer than I've been a Baratheon. And I can't change my blood."

"You've three Baratheon children…" he mutters petulantly, as if it made any sort of difference.

"Four, including you, you big baby." She sighs. "Obnoxious as you are, I do love you."

"Say it again."

"I love you "

"Again."

"Robert."

"Just once more."

She smiles and kisses him softly. "I love you. Stupid."

_ “Again.” _


End file.
